


Dying is Easy

by EurydicaeQuercus



Series: Is this what a saviour looks like? [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Blackwall Being A Good Friend, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 19:02:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18817087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EurydicaeQuercus/pseuds/EurydicaeQuercus
Summary: As the Inquisition goes on and things become harder to take, Zaren returns down a line of thinking she often took in her younger days. Fortunately, Blackwall is there to listen. For now, at least.





	Dying is Easy

Zaren was sitting on the cold, hard stone wall that ran around the edge of Haven, staring blankly out at the unchanging field of snow. Her fingers felt like icicles, aching deeply every time she shifted her weight, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. Now they were back from the Hinterlands again, her brief spark of motivation had faded, replaced by the familiar sensation of suffocating numbness. She didn’t even feel sad this time. Just empty. Empty and alone. 

She’d thought about sending another letter to Ena—she’d be waiting for a reply. But Zaren just couldn’t quite make herself do it. Do anything, really. Not for the first time since she had come to Haven, she found herself unconsciously planning out a route into the snow and the trees. One where no one would be able to find her again. It would take careful consideration—no footsteps left in the snow, no one able to see her leave. But she  _ could  _ do it. If she wanted to. 

It would be one way to escape, at least. It wasn’t like they actually wanted  _ her _ there, after all. They would find someone else. Probably. 

Suddenly, on the edges of her hearing, Zaren heard the heavy crunching gait of someone walking through the snow. Well, she wouldn’t be able to go right now then. She felt her heart sink a little, despite herself. It wasn’t like she had been planning to leave that very second. There was a kind of horrible, jittering feeling in her chest though. Guilt? Anxiety? She didn’t know. 

She turned to face the wanderer, and was mildly surprised to see Blackwall trudging towards her. He seemed equally surprised to see her, and even looked like he was going to back away when he noticed she was looking at him. But he didn’t.

She watched in pensive silence as he approached. She’d been excited to recruit him, initially. Of all the Orders in Thedas, the Wardens were the only one that held her undying respect. When she’d first heard what happened to Ena, she’d been angry. She’d thought her aunt had been stolen away. But she was older now—she knew better. The letters had helped. 

Blackwall was an interesting character, she had to admit. She’d thought he would have known more, or at least been more impressive. But no—he seemed entirely ordinary. Perhaps that made sense though. Not all Wardens could be heroes of legend, after all. 

Meeting him made her miss her home more than ever though. Especially Arnumin. She was fascinated by the Wardens, perhaps even more than Zaren herself. She had such a strange preoccupation with the world outside the Clan. She’d have been thrilled to meet Blackwall. But she was far, far away. Out of Zaren’s reach. She might never be able to see her again. 

The cold metal of her bonding gift lay heavy against her chest. 

She tried to push these thoughts aside as Blackwall tentatively sat down next to her. He always seemed slightly nervous around her. She had no idea why. 

“Cold out, isn’t it?” said Blackwall, looking up at the sky, as snowflakes slowly fell down, coating everything in white.

“Indeed.” 

“Interesting location for it—the Inquisition, I mean,” he said, now looking over at the Breach, still swirling ominously in the sky. 

“Perhaps,” said Zaren, turning to look back at Haven. 

A prison in all but name. She may not be in the Chantry basement physically anymore, but every time someone called her Herald she could feel an imaginary knife at her back. ‘Be what we say you are,’ it seemed to screech, ‘or else.’ 

“I didn’t choose it.”

“No,” said Blackwall, as though pondering something. “Perhaps I expected too much. The tales of you exaggerate a bit.”

“The same could be said of the Wardens, no?”

“Indeed,” said Blackwall, with a chuckle. “But that can be a good thing, at times. Sometimes people need something to aspire to.”

“I don’t see why anyone would aspire to me,” said Zaren, bitterness now gripping at her with an icy fist. “Seems they’d be just as enthused if I were dead. So long as they had  _ this _ .”

She pointedly stretched out her left hand, the Mark flickering beneath her skin, as always. 

“That’s not true,” said Blackwall, with conviction. Zaren raised her eyebrows. “Dying for a cause is noble, yes, but it’s the living who really change things. Even the Wardens know that.”

“And here I thought the entire point of the Wardens was to die for their cause,” said Zaren, not really meaning it, but unable to stop the words from spilling out.

“Hah,” said Blackwall, taking it in his stride. “You’ve got me there.”

“I don’t know,” she said, suddenly gripped by the impulse to tell someone, anyone, the truth. “Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn’t be better to end things here. None of this feels right. Like everything I am is being twisted against me. I just...I’m tired.”

Blackwall sighed deeply and shook his head, as though thinking about something. Zaren felt the impulse to run into the woods and never come back stronger than ever. Then he looked at her directly, and there was something like pity in his eyes.

“Sometimes, we can feel like death is the answer to our problems,” he said, in a slow, heavy voice she’d never heard him use before. “When things get hard, or...dark. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in all my years, it’s this: dying is easy. Living is harder. Remember that for me, won’t you Zaren?”

Zaren was lost for words. She’d never heard anyone in the Inquisition ever use her name before. Like it was somehow forbidden—another thing that had been taken from her. But he had used it. He saw her as a person. And it took her back to a time long ago, when she’d heard those words before. 

* * *

A sunny autumn day. Not long after Minehn passed. Everything had seemed dull and grey. Keeper Deshanna was sitting beside her, feeding the birds at her feet with seeds from the harvest. There was life all around, but all she’d been able to feel was a pervasive sense of darkness. The end of all things. 

And then Deshanna had turned to her and said, 

“You think you failed him, don’t you da’len?”

“I  _ did _ fail him, Keeper. Everyone knows it. I should join him—it’s as much as I deserve.”

“No!” 

A tight grip on her shoulder. 

“No, da’len. Dying will not solve this. Death never solves anything. You should know that by now. All Keepers should know that.”

“But—”

“Dying is easy, Ren. Everything dies someday. Even these trees will die. But living—living is hard. Every day, we fight to survive against those who would destroy us. Everything does. Living is a choice we make every day.”

“Can I not choose to end my life over this?”

“Your life is worth more than that. Part of life is learning to live with our mistakes. This is something you must learn too. Even if it feels impossible. You are  _ strong _ , Zaren. You can grow from this—everything we encounter in life can be surpassed. I promise you this. Dying is never the answer. For anyone. No matter what they have done.”

* * *

And later, much later, those words came back to her again. She had been so angry. So betrayed. But now she knew with certainty what must be done. Even if the irony burnt her tongue.

“You could have left me there! I accepted my punishment. I was ready for all this to end. Why would you stop it?”

“You know, Thom Rainier, someone I used to admire very much once said something to me. I think you may see the wisdom in it.”

“Oh?” 

Dark. Sarcastic… Hopeless. Irony was horribly bitter.

“Dying is easy. Living is harder.”


End file.
